


I Did This For You

by xpiester333x



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 11:04:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2386061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xpiester333x/pseuds/xpiester333x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was easy for Chopper to explain medically what was wrong with Zoro, but it was harder to live with than he made it sound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Omg cries tears of pain as I type this... could you write zosan and "Didnt you see what I did?!" Or "I can't breathe!" - Utukis
> 
> Also a big thanks to kumiko for helping me with the title!
> 
> And once more, please be aware of the warning, this fic contains graphic depictions of violence.

It was a slow decent. The disease attacked your brain, but slowly, quietly, not taking effect until much later, when it was too late to halt progression or reverse the damage done. It was a silent killer.

That was how Chopper had explained it to them. 

It sounded so clinical that way, laid out so simply. The disease, incurable and untreatable, attacked your brain over a long period of time, and then you died. The explanation didn’t begin to touch on how it felt to watch your love one experience the disease. It didn’t describe the hallucinations they would experience, it didn’t mention the mood swings, and it didn’t even begin to touch on the screaming.

This was the way Chopper should have explained it:

* * *

 

The hallucinations started out mild. Zoro’s eyes would chase a fly or follow a shadow that wasn’t there. Sanji hadn’t thought anything of them, and Zoro had shaken them off. He was tired, he would explain. It had been a long day, he’d lost a lot of blood, he was going crazy. Jokingly, of course. Sanji had heard every excuse in the book, but it took to that point to realize something was off. Zoro was a skilled swordsman, his eyesight was perfect, and his focus was incredible. For small, invisible bugs to be constantly assaulting his vision, there had to be something wrong.

But neither of them mentioned it, and no one else had said anything either. Maybe it was denial; after all, it was impossible for Zoro to be sick, and no injury would take him down for good. Maybe it was their own selfish desires. If they believed nothing was amiss, then nothing would be amiss.

It wasn’t until Zoro’s mind began to break that they realized they had been wrong.

Sanji had been the only one there. They had been washing dishes, like most days, only the dishes had gone forgotten in favor of each other (like most days). Zoro pressed Sanji against the counter, kissing him for all he was worth. Zoro’s kisses always left Sanji dizzy. Zoro showed no more mercy in kissing than he did in battle.

Something change, however. Zoro’s kisses faltered, slowed, as if those phantom bugs had distracted the marimo again.

Sanji pulled away, just enough to mutter, “pay attention to me, dumbass,” against Zoro’s lips.

Suddenly Zoro jerked away. Not just his lips, his whole body tore away from Sanji as if the cook had burned him.

“What the hell?!” Zoro spat and wiped at his mouth in disgust.

“Oi!” Sanji snapped. “You don’t need to be an asshole.”

“What the hell are you?!” Zoro suddenly cried.

“ _What?_ ” Sanji stiffened.

“Answer me! What the hell are you?! Where is Sanji?!”

“Marimo, what the hell are you talking about?” Sanji snapped. If this was a joke, he wasn’t amused.

“Where is he?!” Zoro shouted. “Did you hurt him?!” His hands flew to his swords.

Sanji stared at him in disbelief. This wasn’t a joke. Zoro was looking at him as if he were an enemy. They fought plenty of times, sometimes even in anger and loathing, but even in their most serious fights, Zoro had never looked at Sanji that way.

Chopper had to use a sedative to calm Zoro down, and that was the first day they realized something was seriously wrong.

* * *

 

The mood swings were the hardest, in Sanji’s opinion. He had only seen Zoro cry once. After his dreams had been nearly shattered and the reality of the world had come crashing down on him, as he swore himself to Luffy and promised both his captain and himself that defeat would never happen again. That was the first and last time Sanji had ever seen Zoro cry… until now.

Zoro sobbed quietly into his arms, tremors wracking through his frame. Sanji held him tighter, as if doing so would still the tremors and return things to normal. It had been a long day for all of them. The tears now were just the tail end of things. Sanji hoped Zoro would cry himself to sleep.

The day had started normally. Zoro had woken up and began his usual work out, like every morning before. Chopper encouraged Zoro to exercise, for once. Almost the complete opposite of his usual demands. When Zoro was working out, they could almost pretend everything was still normal.

Zoro made it through breakfast just fine as well. No breakdowns of freak outs, he ate his meal and listened to the casual conversation around him, just like he always did. It didn’t stop them all from sitting on the edge of their seats as if expecting more.

It was after breakfast that he finally cracked. Luffy was the first on the scene, and their captain was the only reason Usopp got away without a scratch.

“I’ll fucking kill him!” Zoro shouted, straining against Luffy’s rubbery grip. “Let me fucking kill him that pathetic, shit eating long nose!”

Usopp flinched. The worst part about Zoro’s rage spells were not the threat of physical damage. They had taken his swords from him already, but Zoro could cut even deeper with words.

“Zoro,” Sanji approached calmly. “You have to calm down. Breathe.”

“I can’t breathe!” Zoro snapped, lashing towards Sanji. “Not with a smoke stack like you around!”

It was hardly an insult compared to the usual Sanji got.

It took Zoro fifteen minutes to regain enough reason and sanity for Luffy to let him go. The deck had cleared by then, the rest of the crew having fled below deck to avoid hearing their swordsman turn on them. It was hardest to remember the Zoro they used to know during those times.

Zoro sank into the grass, tearing it out in fistfuls and throwing it towards Luffy and Sanji. “I hate you,” he growled.

“No you don’t, Zoro.” Luffy said.

“I do!” Zoro snapped. “I HATE you!”

Sanji sighed. He needed to get started on lunch, but he couldn’t leave Zoro like this. “Zoro, help me cook.”

“Why the hell would I do that?!” He sounded almost like old Zoro.

“Because I need some help and you’re being a useless sack of shit right now,” Sanji said, standing and lighting a cigarette. “Let’s get going.”

Zoro was silent after that. Cold, distant. He worked almost robotically, following Sanji’s orders and working methodically and without argument. It was almost a relief, thought it broke Sanji’s heart to see Zoro so apathetic.

When dinner was done, Sanji gave Zoro a break, having him sit at the table while Sanji washed up. Zoro stared at the wood of the table, his mind elsewhere, and Sanji left him to it.

“Sanji.”

Sanji turned off the water and dried his hands. “Yeah?”

“I didn’t  mean it,” Zoro said.

“I know.”

“I love you,” Zoro looked up, finally, and straight into Sanji’s eyes.

“I know,” Sanji said again.

Zoro did end up crying himself to sleep that night.

* * *

 

He only got worse.

In his clinical, cold manner of explanation, Chopper had told them to expect that, but watching it happen was much more horrifying.

“Didn’t you see what I did!?” Zoro exclaimed, brandishing his hand outwards as if he were displaying a grand prize. He sounded proud, gleeful, like a child that had won an award.

Sanji stared dully at the blank space behind Zoro. “What did you do?” He asked.

“I killed her!” Zoro laughed. “She’s all over.”

Sanji shuddered. The ‘she’ he was referring to was probably either Nami or Robin, but Sanji didn’t dare ask. The sick joy Zoro felt at the idea was bad enough.

“Why did you do that?” Sanji asked.

“For you,” Zoro smiled. He was _proud_ of himself.

“I didn’t need something like that,” Sanji sighed.

“You don’t… like it?” Zoro looked back at the blank expanse of wall.

Sanji stared at it too. “I love it,” he finally said. “Thank you.”

Sanji placed the food down in front of Zoro. The chains around Zoro’s wrists rattled as he reached for his sandwich. He wasn’t safe for them anymore.

“Anything for you, Sanji,” Zoro said with a mouthful of food. “I love you.”

Chopper had said eventually this disease would kill Zoro. Sanji thought it already had.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look inside Zoro's head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to see the fic about Zoro going insane from his point of view, if that's possible. Lots of doom hugs 3 - Candy-of-doom

Chopper used some kind of fancy jargon to explain it. Zoro didn’t entirely understand what the doctor was talking about, but he got the gist of it. His brain was dying.

It was ironic. He worked his body to the point of exhaustion, never letting up even when he was injured. Blood loss couldn’t stop him; wrecked organs, broken bones, torn muscles couldn’t stop him. Chopper always said if he didn’t rest his body properly he would die, and in the end it was his brain that was going to be the end of him.

He tried not to think about it. He’d known for a while that something was wrong. It started with the gnats in the kitchen. When he mentioned them to Sanji, the cook had threatened to kick his head in.

“My kitchen is clean and bug free, thank you very much,” he’d said. “Don’t even joke about something like that.”

But Zoro could see them dancing in the air all around them. He’d watched them flutter for a moment before shrugging. If Sanji wasn’t worried about them, he wouldn’t bother with them either.

That was only the beginning though. Zoro would see the bugs fluttering through the air quite often. Sometimes in the galley and sometimes out on the deck. In the bathroom and down in the aquarium, they were everywhere, flickering in and out of his vision teasingly, distracting him constantly. No one else said a word about them, so he didn’t bother to either.

When it wasn’t bugs, it was shadowy figures, slinking around in the corner of Zoro’s vision. He would spin quickly, hands ready on his swords, only to find the shadow gone. They were too fast for him. Even if he flicked just his eyes in their direction, they avoided his gaze. They seemed harmless though, and he learned to ignore them just like he learned to ignore the bugs.

“Zoro?” Nami frowned. “Are you listening to me?”

Sometimes the others noticed that Zoro’s attention was drifting. His eyes would follow after the floating bugs or snap in the direction of one of the slick shadows, and nakama would have to call his attention back to them.

“Yeah, sorry,” he said. “Just kind of tired.”

There was always an excuse. He was tired; he lost too much blood; it was a long day; every excuse, he gave them all at least once. Most of the others didn’t seem to notice, but Sanji did. Sanji, who knew him even better than he knew himself sometimes, knew something was wrong. He never said anything. Whether that was out of respect for Zoro’s feelings or just because Sanji wasn’t very concerned about it, Zoro had no idea, but the cook kept his silence, and so did Zoro.

The first time it was really a problem was that night in the galley. He’d managed to distract Sanji from the dishes, a personal game he liked to play most nights. After dinner, there was a lull of quiet in the kitchen, the others were well fed and off distracting themselves elsewhere, leaving the galley empty, quiet, and most importantly, _private._ Private moments were so rare aboard this ship, Zoro had to make the most of them. They dishes could be done anytime, but Zoro only got moments like these to kiss Sanji senseless. He was shit with words, it was in action he always felt more comfortable, and kissing Sanji like this, stealing the air from his lungs, savoring his taste, holding him so close, was the best way Zoro could think of expressing his feelings.

But something wasn’t quite right. The bugs were there again, but they weren’t keeping their distance like usual, they were dancing right above Sanji’s head. They were gloating, teasing. They were laughing at him.

“Pay attention to me, dumbass.”

The voice was not Sanji’s. The voice was not anyone that Zoro knew. It wasn’t even human. The words sounded sickly; guttural, wet, thick. Zoro ripped himself away from the monster, wiping the disgusting texture of something thick and wet from his lips. He spat, the foul taste of something rancid filled his mouth.

“What the hell?!” He shouted. He was confused, disoriented. Was this an illusion of some kind? Or had he been trapped in an illusion just before this?

“Oi.” The creature that spoke wasn’t human. It wasn’t animal. It wasn’t anything Zoro had ever seen before. Black and misshapen, it’s body oozed with slime. It had no discernable face, but it’s several slime coated, tentacle-like appendages were lined with sharp, white fangs. It smelled foul, the same sick, rancid taste that filled Zoro’s mouth hung in the air all around them. The flies continued to dance around the creature’s head.

“You don’t need to be an asshole,” the thing taunted.

“What the hell are you?!” Zoro shouted.

The grotesque creature seemed to freeze. “What?”

“Answer me! What the hell are you?” Zoro demanded again, but there was a more important question he needed to know the answer to first. “Where is Sanji?!”

“Marimo, what the hell are you talking about?” The creature slid a fraction closer to him.

Terror seized Zoro’s heart. _Marimo_. That stupid nickname the cook had given him. What had happened to Sanji? How did this thing know what Sanji called him. Was the cook hurt? Held captive somewhere? Pain ripped through Zoro’s chest. Was Sanji dead? Had this creature killed him already?

His hands flew to his swords. He would avenge Sanji, or save him, or join him in battle soon. Zoro had no idea what was going on, but at the moment the only thing he was worried about was Sanji.

“Where is he?!” Zoro’s voice rose. “Did you hurt him?!” He would kill this thing. He needed Sanji back. The flies were laughing at him, the creature mocked his pain. It stood, refusing to answer his questions. It would never tell him where Sanji was. It wanted him to hurt; the uncertainty was killing Zoro.

But Zoro wasn’t stupid. If the creature wouldn’t talk, it had no reason to live. He tightened his grip on his sword, unsheathing it slowly. He watched with sick pleasure as the creature stiffened, bracing for battle. It wouldn’t win. Zoro would kill it.

The galley door flew open with a bang. Several heads popped in, staring wide-eyed at the scene before them. Zoro was relieved to see they were all okay, but his heart sank when he noticed Sanji was not among them.

“Where’s Sanji?” He asked them; he _begged_ them to know something. Anything. He needed them to tell him where Sanji was.

“Zoro…” Nami’s voice quiet, sad.

“No,” he shook his head. “No. No. No. No.” Sanji had to be somewhere. Somewhere. Nami was wrong. There was nothing to be sad about because Sanji was _somewhere._

“Here Zoro!” Chopper stepped forward, coming closer and closer.

Zoro tried to stop him. He shouted at him, waved him off, begged him not to come any closer. Whatever this creature was, it had taken Sanji away, and it was dangerous. But Chopper didn’t stop, he put himself between Zoro and the creature, a syringe in his hand. He acted as if the thing, that foul, disgusting _thing_ was nothing strange. Zoro glared the creature down, daring it to move forward and hurt his nakama, but it didn’t more. It just continued to stand by the sink, as if waiting passively for the events to unfold.

A sharp sting distracted Zoro. He looked down in surprise. Chopper had stabbed the needle into his arm. Zoro could feel the instantaneous effects of the drug Chopper had given him. He swayed on his feel, his muscles suddenly too weak to support him. He tried to fight it. He couldn’t give in until Sanji was safe.

The last thing Zoro saw before his body finally dropped was Sanji. Standing by the sink. Where he’d been all along.

* * *

 

He was steadily losing control. He could feel it slipping. Normalcy was an act now, the act he put on to keep the others calm and happy. Inside his mind, nothing was normal. He was teetering on the edge, leaning further and further, and it was only a matter of time before he lost his footing and tumbled down for good.

A shoulder brushed against his, rattling him from his thoughts.

“What the fuck!” He shouted. He was caught off guard and unaware, he didn’t have time to mask the emotions like he usually did. There was no hiding the anger he felt.

“S-sorry, Zoro,” Usopp sputtered. “It was an accident.”

There was still some deep part of him that knew what he was doing was wrong. A dying voice in the back of his mind that had once been so prominent of his mind tried feebly to quell his anger. To no avail. His rage grew, burning hot in his chest and consuming him entirely.

“You son of a bitch!” He shouted. “I’m going to kill you!” He didn’t have his swords. They had been taken from him, but he didn’t need them to deal with this weakling. He would kill with his bare hands.

Long, rubbery arms wrapped around him, binding his arms to his sides. He struggled against them, fighting to reach the man that had dropped to the ground to cower in fear, but they held him fast.

“Zoro,” a voice, familiar but strange to him at the moment, spoke into his ear. “Stop that.”

The voice was calm, reasonable, and some part of him was soothed by it. But that part of him was not in control. His anger was in control at the moment, deep and primal, it blazed fire in his eyes and consumed him with hate and a desire for blood.

“I’ll fucking kill him!” Zoro screamed, straining against the arms that held him. He could feel his muscles straining, tearing, joints popping as he strained to reach the victim of his hate. “Let me fucking kill him! That pathetic, shit-eating long nose!”

Something wasn’t right. It was wrong. Very wrong.

“Zoro.” Another voice, even more recognizable than the last. “You have to calm down. Breathe.”

He couldn’t breathe. He wanted to. That was Sanji’s voice. He didn’t want Sanji to see him like this. He didn’t want to be like this. But he wasn’t in control. He couldn’t make the anger disappear.

“I can’t breathe!” He thrashed, twisting and trying to launch himself as Sanji. “Not with a smoke stack like you around!”

Usopp fled. Nami, Chopper, Robin, Franky, Brook; all of them left. He was glad. He hated the looks they gave him. Fear, hurt, apprehension. They were his nakama, he would have fought for them to his last dying breath, but they were afraid of him. He couldn’t blame them.

Luffy released him, and Zoro sank to the grass of the lawn deck. He was still angry. It had burned down to simmer, but it was still there. He took his aggression out on the grass, tearing it out in clumps. He threw fistfuls of it at the two remaining figures on the deck.

“I hate you,” he growled through gritted teeth.

“No you don’t, Zoro,” Luffy said.

No, he didn’t. Not at all. His mouth was acting on it’s own, but his body was repulsed by his own words and actions.

“I do!” He snapped. “I HATE you!” It hurt him physically.

“Zoro,” Sanji sighed. “Help me cook.”

“Why the hell would I do that?!” He frowned. Why would Sanji want him around when he was like this? Why wouldn’t they just drop him off at the next island and abandon him?

“Because I need some help and you’re being a useless sack of shit right now.” He sounded just like Sanji always did. Exasperated, annoyed, the same as any other day. But there was a telltale tremble in Sanji’s hands as he struck his match and lit his cigarette that gave him away. Zoro scared him.

He shut down. It was safer not to feel anything than to let the anger take a hold of him again. He worked methodically through each task Sanji assigned to him, and ate dinner without making contact with anybody. He could feel them watching him, but he ignored them. He listened to only Sanji’s voice, and kept his mind blissfully blank.

He waited until the galley was empty of everyone but Sanji. He listened to the cook wash dishes, quietly humming an old sailors tune. He remembered the tremble in Sanji’s hands that afternoon. A sign of fear. But Sanji was still here, by Zoro’s side. Even as Zoro lost himself bit by bit, Sanji remained.

“Sanji.”

The faucet turned off. “Yeah?”

“I didn’t mean it,” Zoro said.

“I know.”

Zoro looked at him for the first time in hours. “I love you,” he said.

“I know.”

The only thing worse than the overwhelming, violent anger that sometimes consumed Zoro’s mind and body, was the all-consuming sadness that set in later. It leaked into his bones and the shattered remnants of his soul, drowning him. He didn’t want this anymore.

* * *

 

When he blinked, he saw two worlds. One was wood and metal and stacks of crates. The other was blood and gore. Sanji was in both. He didn’t know which was right.

His wrists were shackled, fastened to the wall behind him. He had become an animal. He couldn’t break them, but he didn’t try. He belonged here. They were safe while he was here.

* * *

 

Gore lined the walls around him. Blood soaked him, stained the underside of his fingernails, splashed the wall behind him. Sanji was going to be so proud.

Zoro’s world was blood. Pain. Destruction. He was so happy. Sanji was so happy. They had this together. He killed, he shared, Sanji loved. It was perfect, too perfect. Everything was perfect.

Sometimes Sanji disappeared. Zoro didn’t know where went, but Zoro filled his time with the blood. He painted with it, made masterpieces. He never tired of the feel of it, hot and slick; thick wet globs of it dripping over everything. The smell, _the taste_. He loved it almost as much as Sanji.

He tore into her body with his bare hands, ripping through the flesh like old paper. He dug around her insides, playing with them before hanging them up in display. The blood pooled around them, and he splashed in it with glee.

Sanji came. Zoro waited eagerly to see what Sanji would think.

Sanji said nothing. He just sat down, right in the puddle of blood, and looked at Zoro.

“Didn’t you see what I did?” Zoro gestured to the wall. He wanted Sanji to see, he couldn’t wait. He wanted Sanji to be happy. This was his gift.

Sanji stared at the wall. “What did you do?”

“I killed her!” Zoro laughed. Of course he had. “She’s all over!” Sanji was sitting in her. There were bits of her on Zoro. She was on the walls. She was beautiful.

“Why did you do that?” Sanji asked.

Zoro’s elation fell. He blinked twice. Something was wrong. Was Sanji… unhappy? Something tugged at Zoro’s mind. A memory long forgotten, something Zoro should know but didn’t. It tugged at him, but his brain had no answers as to what it was.

“You don’t… like it?” He looked back at the wall. It was blank. Clean. But no, it wasn’t. She was there. Zoro shook his head slightly, the strange feeling still plaguing him. He wished it would go away. He blinked again. She was still there.

Sanji looked at the wall again. “I love it,” he said. “Thank you.”

He slid a tray of food across the blood soaked floor. Zoro reached for it eagerly. He was starved.

Sanji was happy. Sanji loved the gift Zoro had left for him. Of course he did. Sanji loved him, just like Zoro loved Sanji.

“Anything for you, Sanji,” Zoro said, smiling around his meal. “I love you.”

Everything was so perfect. Zoro couldn’t be happier.

 

 


End file.
